Soup Is Not A Finger Food

Unbalanced

TODAY IS ONE OF THOSE DAYS - no, weeks - that makes you realize how delicate the balance is of work vs. family... and also humbles you into remembering that sometimes, despite elaborate plans and optimistic intentions, it isn't always possible to do it all. At least not on your own terms.  And for someone like me, with control-freak tendencies, that's hard.

(Lest you think I'm left to deal with this on my own, please know I'm feeling grateful to have a spouse who is more than willing to share the load. His week has been blown up, too. But today it was my turn.)

I'm lucky to have a job where I can flex my hours and arrange my schedule to accommodate the frequent personal crises that come up. I can often telecommute if I need to. But as great as that sounds to someone who doesn't have that option, it's not without cost. Especially if you have a sick or needy kid in the house. Or two! Working at home is one thing when you're alone, but quite another if you're not.

Peezer decided that he had a wicked headache last night, and said he still had it this morning. I'm almost 100% sure he isn't capable of the theatrics that would be necessary to trick this experienced mom into believing he had a malady was anything but legitimate. And let's face it, as much as grown-ups need the occasional mental health day, you have to believe kids do, too. So whatever it was, he wanted his mom, and I said okay.

Seth is still home, and needing extra help (ice, pain medication, waitress services). Yesterday, he got a hard, removable boot, instead of an actual cast, but we're still waiting on approval for an alternative to crutches, which, owing to his left-side weakness, won't work. So today, I set about begging and pleading trying to obtain the blessing  act of Congress Royal Decree approval for Seth to get one of those knee-scooter thingies so he can maneuver at school next week. This involved two calls to the orthopedic doctor's office to request a letter of medical necessity, several calls with the medical supply store, and two calls to the insurance company, which I had to make because apparently the provider's line shuts down at 11:30 a.m. on Fridays. Because I guess people don't have medical needs on weekends. (WTF, Carefirst?)

So much for my mammogram, which I'd finally scheduled for this morning. I've been carrying around the prescription since my annual exam in August and delaying it because... well, I don't know why, it's like there's never a good time to do these things, but I finally did schedule it, largely because of her, and because I know it's ridiculous to postpone these things. Only you can't take a headachey seven year old and prop him in the waiting room with a Nintendo DS and tell him to just hang out till Mommy's done.

Meanwhile, I'm supposed to be telecommuting. Remember that? And that is the other hidden challenge in what may seem on the surface to be a pretty sweet gig: I don't get sick days. I can take off, but I don't get paid. My clients still expect their projects to be completed. But try telling that to the seven year old who's like, "Mama, can I watch that funny video of the preschooler?" when I'm trying to crunch spreadsheets and - ironically - assist an employee whose kid was not properly enrolled for coverage.

And yes, I do understand the irony of blogging instead of finishing that spreadsheet, but my concentration is elsewhere now and my heart just isn't in it. Because two of my kids need me today. And so that is where I need to focus.

That doesn't stop me from fantasizing about martinis and manicures and sneaking away to warm, tropical locations... but unless the Money Fairy drops a big bag o'cash on my front step, I'm going to have to finish my work. But probably not till tomorrow. Because today, I gotta be Mom.

 

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

I KEEP TRYING TO SING THAT SONG TO MYSELF because it helps me -if only a little bit - to squelch my inner Grinch. It just doesn't feel like Christmas is less than two weeks away.

We've put up our Christmas tree and decorated the house. Much of the shopping is done. Tacky Christmas ties and jewelry have been donned.  We've attended a couple of holiday parties.

And we've baked cookies. Which should really get me in the spirit, right? This year, we went from this

to this

in 48 short hours! And there are what, 12 more days until Christmas? At this pace, I'll need to make like six more batches of Sand Tarts! But everyone loves 'em. And we don't bake them so we can look at them, do we? (Visit my other blog, My Grandmas' Recipes, to get the recipe.)

Meanwhile, Peezer has begun a martial arts class, which he looooves, but which has me scrambling to get home early enough from work to take him on Tuesdays. Then Seth finally admitted he felt yucky enough yesterday to allow me to take him to the doctor, so I scheduled a telecommuting day around that. Not to mention, December is the busiest time for an HR professional, and I'm busy TIMES FIVE CLIENTS right now. But it sure beats unemployment!

It's a juggling act around here, people. It's all about time management.  Though sometimes I wonder if I unintentionally sabotage myself.

Last week, I picked up the Suburban from the repair shop, returned the service loaner, and had enough time to make it to pick up Peezer on time without rushing. However, I encountered a patch of stop and go traffic, and unfortunately, the guy in front of me stopped and I.... go-ed. Right into the big metal bracket on the back of his vehicle where the spare tire should have been. Normally, if it's Suburban versus Honda CRV, you'd put your money on the Burb. Not so this time:

Ugh. Well, no air bags deployed, no one was injured, the other driver was pretty nice about it, both vehicles were driveable, and the insurance process has been fine. But it's just one more thing to have to deal with at an already-busy time of year.

At least I didn't wreck the service loaner!

So now I'm zipping around town in a rented Nissan Altima. Which is actually cool, because, unlike my land yacht giant SUV, I can park an Altima in a DC garage, so I'm going to take a break from Metro and drive downtown this week. Which will probably make me appreciate my Metro commute.

Still. I've loaded Christmas music onto my smart phone so I can listen to it. I have a stack of greeting cards and four books of stamps and I'm kinda looking forward to that project. Curt's talking about cranking out another issue of our famous annual newsletter, "The Leek." 

And amid all the hustle and fuss, I've received a few reality checks. A beloved teacher at our middle school just died after a two-year battle with cancer. An older cousin went out to cut down a tree by himself and was struck and killed when it fell.  Blog-friends are facing challenges: One's facing her first Christmas without her husband, who died earlier this year. Another is in the midst of an ongoing struggle to overcome cancer. The list goes on.

My challenges seem like pure fluff when you consider all of that.

So, Deck the Halls and all that stuff. THIS is what I need right now:

 

THAT's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown. The rest is just... fluff.

 

Mommy's Magic Powers

I BET YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT I HAVE MAGICAL POWERS. It's true. It's not something I like to brag about because if too many people find out, then I'll get all these requests for assistance and really, where would it even STOP? 

There are probably lots of other moms who share my secret skill. And because I like you, I'm going to share with you this little secret. But you have to promise not to tell anyone else, mkay?

Shhhhhh... lean in here, just a little bit closer... that's it...

OK. Now. You see this picture?

That's where my dog goes to eat and drink. The bowl on the left is his food bowl, empty because I took this photo just after he'd eaten. And the one on the right, is his water bowl. Now, if you look closely, you can see there's a small amount of water in there, and if you look really closely, you can infer that it's been there for a while. It's a little slimy, it has stuff floating in it. It's nasty. You wouldn't drink that, would you? Of course not. And neither would your dog. Because even if your dog likes to go outside and roll around in sh*t, he's not gonna drink that.

YUK.

But here's the thing. I am the only one in my whole household who can see that. That's the only explanation for it. There are four other humans in my household, ranging in age from 6 1/2 to 46 1/2, all of whom walk by that area in a corner of our kitchen multiple times per day. But you know what they must see?

I can only assume they can't even see the water bowl, because I have never known any of them to refill the dog's water bowl without prompting. And even if they are prompted and respond, they usually just fill a big plastic cup with water and dump it on top of the slimy water, which just dilutes the slime and doesn't improve its drinkability.

Sometimes it's just easier to do something yourself than to ask someone else to do it, and that's what I've decided with the dog's water dish. Because who doesn't love a fresh, cold bowl of water?

Yes, this has rankled for years, but now that it occurs to me that I'm the only one who can actually see the water dish, it doesn't bother me anymore. In fact, I feel rather fortunate to have been blessed with this extra-sensory perception, if you will. It's a gift; I understand that now. And I forgive my family for their puzzled looks when asked to fill the dog's water bowl. They simply can't see it. 

Our little secret, k?

 

Thirteen

YESTERDAY WAS The Boss's thirteenth birthday and WHAM, just like that, now I have TWO TEENAGERS living in my house. And yet, even though he's got a peach-fuzz mustache and his voice is deepening, I can't help but remember him when he was all

and all

And then a few years later, he was all

The Boss was born just three days after my birthday, which means that in 1998, I kinda stopped having birthdays. Which is cool, because I was 31 on the day he was born and I'd be okay if I could just continue to celebrate the anniversaries of the day I turned 31 instead of the day I was born, back in the Gay Nineties  heyday of the rotary dial telephone  the Sixties.

But the darndest thing with kids - they grow up. You can cuddle and coddle and try to squoosh them down and keep them from growing, but soon they're looking you square in the eye and articulating keen observations and you can start to see the grown-up they'll soon be.

...but at thirteen, they're still young enough to be a kid.

Even though they all look like me (Curt has been known to refer to them as "Meg, Megger and Meggest"), each of my boys has a unique personality. It's fun to observe them as they mature. Sometimes I wish for the days when they were cuddly babies or chubby toddlers. Things were easier then. But The Boss has been such a joy to parent.

Recently, he and I found ourselves alone at the house on a lazy Sunday. I tried to interest him in getting out of the house. "Let's go buy you that new pair of sneakers you need," I prodded. "Or how about we go see a movie? Just us two!" He hemmed and hawed and hesitated. "Oh, c'mon," I urged. "Let's!!"

"Uh, it would be kinda embarassing if my friends saw me at a movie with my mom, Mom."

He didn't mean to crush my maternal heart or to drop-kick my spirit, but that comment was such a kick in the gut. And despite my futile protests ("It isn't unusual for a kid your age to be seen in public with your parent from time to time"), I totally understood where he was coming from. My boys don't believe it, but I DO remember what it was like to be thirteen. It wasn't all that long ago, really. I know what it feels like to wrestle with your feelings for your parents, to try and achieve independence. 

We celebrated his big day in the way that has become our tradition: Dinner out at Sakura, a Japanese steak house. We love the hibachi, the goofy show the chef provides as he whips up fried rice and sears steak and seafood and veggies. And he's my kid, too, in that he could take or leave cake. It was a good night.

Boss, we love you so much and are so proud of the young man you've become. I'm so glad I get to be your mom!

Mixed Feelings

I AM ALL ALONE in my too-quiet house and it feels... wierd.

Summer, while it brings a welcome respite from the frantic pace of the school year, becomes for us a patchwork of camps, trips, and path-of-least-resistance parenting as we attempt to juggle boys with free time and our work schedules. When they were younger, my older boys eagerly went to camps. Now they'd rather hang out, visit friends, do whatever.

Now that Peezer is school-aged, he's enjoying day camp this year.  But ten whole weeks of camp are expensive! And Peezer's main camp was closed last week for the July 4 holiday, and doesn't run the last two weeks of August. So there are holes in the coverage that need to be filled with trips or other elaborate arrangements.

Last week we vacationed at Dewey Beach. The end of next week we're taking a quick jaunt to South Carolina - I'll tell you about that one later. Otherwise, we do have to WORK and all, so we end up sending the kids elsewhere for short stretches to break up the daily monotony of sleeping in / non-stop XBox / TV / ramen noodle lunches.

Peezer and The Boss left Sunday for a week with family in PA, and I just put Seth and our niece (who is the same age as Seth) on a plane bound for Houston where they will hang out with cousins for a whole week!

(Dear Houston, please accept my apologies in advance for any bad behavior - I'm sure it was an accident! - and just send me a bill for the damage. Many Thanks!)

And not counting the dogs, who will need a walk soon, and work, which I must get back to in a moment, there is no one depending on me for anything.  No lunches to pack, no sunscreen to apply, no fights to referee, messes to clean up, children to nag to bathe / clean up their socks / chip bags / cups / soda cans / popsicle sticks. No iCarly or Spongebob Squarepants to tune out. No wet towels to peel off the floor. No frantic drop-off or pick-up deadlines, no therapy appointments to hurry to, no one to remind to take their medicine, no playdates to arrange, no trips to the pool (well, maybe we'll go - that might be fun, to be there and not have to wonder if our kids are safely buoyant)...

I hear a lawn mower outside and have a fan blowing but otherwise?

Shhhh. It's veeerrrrrry quiet.

And right now, I like it.

It'll be this way until Saturday or Sunday, when the younger two return. The teenagers fly back next Tuesday.

Yet as much as I need this break, this reset, it feels rather strange. I'm feeling aimless. Marginal. Because this week? I can make some decisions without regard to how it impacts the kids.

Of course, there is the dog to consider. 

Anyone want a dog? Because even though the kids are gone, I still have to combat the dog-hair tumbleweeds.

See? I'm not getting off entirely without obligations.

It's good for the kids to get away: Good for them and good for us. And as happy as I am to have a few selfish days to myself, I have to say, I'll be really happy to see them when they return.